


Hana Utage

by altairattorney



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Ending, Return Ending, a lot of emotions, good ending, tea house ending and a lot of care and love and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altairattorney/pseuds/altairattorney
Summary: That, and nothing else of importance, is what the sakura reminds me of.
Relationships: Kuro | The Divine Heir & Sekiro | Wolf
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Hana Utage

Kuro loved few things as much as the subtle change in the air.

The evening breeze of the past few days had warmed up like a smile, and his meadow, just freed from the last snow, shone like jade in its newfound strength. Even as the sun sank behind the mountains, the mild temperature of the air joined everything in nature to herald the coming spring.

It was only natural, he supposed. His past was made of rigid winters, and all he remembered coated itself in a thick layer of ice. It was always his delight to see them melt away, like the bitter images he was learning to leave behind.

From the corner he always sat in, at the edge of the sliding door, Wolf did not seem as pleased with the spectacle. Kuro could see it even from afar, at the other end of the corridor. He took a moment to himself, in the shadows, and better observed him.

His head was raised, with unreadable eyes fixed on the first sakura flowers. There was something worrisome in his stony expression – something very far away, and still almost impossible to reach.

Kuro sat at his side, ever graceful, with the quiet balance he had found in adulthood and countless hours spent serving tea.

“Here is your matcha, Wolf,” he said, handing the older man a warm cup. “Mizuho went outside for some rice and fish. We will eat shortly.”

“Thank you very much.”

Kuro breathed in all the air he could hold, taking in the sweet scent of fresh grass and flowers. He let the wind play with his hair as he ran a fine wooden comb in its strands, still glinting in black and white.

But even the weather, his favourite aspect of their new home, was not enough to distract him from Wolf's frown.

Kuro rested a delicate hand on his sleeve, trying to convey respect and warmth in equal measure.

“Is something bothering you, Wolf?”

A touch of ancient fear, as if he had been caught off guard, clouded the man's eyes for no more than a split second. Kuro did not miss it. He felt his heart squeeze at the thought of all he must have gone through, when and even so long before their paths crossed.

He wondered how many more years it would take to wash it all away, wave after wave, and if he could ever help.

“It is nothing,” Wolf replied, his neutral expression made darker by the falling shadows. “Memories, maybe. At most.”

He sipped the rest of his tea without another word.

Kuro never pressed further when he retreated into his solitude, for there was no need to. Now, at last, they had all the time in the world. And eventually, with a glance or a gesture, his silence always turned into little streams of words, leading his soul further into the light.

He had finished his drink for a few minutes when Kuro offered him the comb. Wolf took to helping, as he did most evenings. Little knots and beads of sweat from a long work day unraveled, easing the former shinobi's tension with the repetitive calm of the gesture.

“Do you wish to tell me, Wolf, what you were thinking of?”

Kuro's soft voice took him by surprise. But that was the norm, he thought. He always found the way to investigate and heal, in the winding folds of their shared quiet. Then again, Wolf could never keep much from him – even more so since their return, and the moment of overjoyed heartbreak that had shaken them both to their roots.

“I was thinking of the flowers,” he said, gently pulling at his hair.

“That is a nice thought,” Kuro said, encouraging. “What kind of flowers?”

Wolf's answer did not come for a time. His silence was charged with emotion.

“The sakura blossoms, long ago,” he answered. “I was remembering their smell, and how different it was. The heavenly palace... the moonshine on the trees. The way their petals fell that gave me chills – good or bad, I cannot say.”

Kuro's shoulders became visibly tense. The pang of regret Wolf felt was tempered by the certainty that, somehow, he would have ended up telling him regardless.

“The sakura... with all the other things you saw in there,” the young man said weakly. “It saddens me beyond words to hear it still haunts you.”

“It is nothing, Kuro. Some things, one does not forget.”

Kuro nodded in agreement. He knew better than anyone what he meant. However, he could not repress the sting in his eyes. When he turned around to receive the comb, not even the growing darkness could conceal his tears.

Wolf's eyes widened. His hands took Kuro's own with care when he reached for the comb.

“Do not worry, Kuro. Truly, there is nothing to be sad about.”

“What we went through cannot be forgotten,” Kuro remarked, his voice shaking. “But you... I still cannot imagine. There are things that will never be the same to you... like the sakura... no matter how far you go. And none of it would be true... if it weren't for me.”

He lowered his eyes, letting the tears slide off his cheeks. Wolf failed to find the words to answer to that.

He could not stand to see him bear that guilt, nor could he tell him comforting lies. They had both been there to know and live the truth, now so hurtful in the words of his inconsolable child.

But none of that meant he would give up on him.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, however, Kuro got on his knees, and grabbed his shoulders with unusual strength.

“You do know you are free to go, Wolf, right?” he asked, shaking. “It is the truth, and it has always been. If remembering becomes too much, and... I hurt you, you have no obligations to me. You belong to nobody by yourself, and you deserve that.”

Wolf closed his eyes, smiling, and let out a long breath. He leaned on Kuro's forearms, inviting him to sit again.

“How could I not know? You taught me all that, long ago.”

Those simple words left Kuro's mouth slightly open, and led a few more tears to roll down his face. The depth of those words meant everything to him – yet the guilt lingered, still stinging his heart after so much time.

“It was my fault, though,” he insisted. “When you were gone, and could have rested... it was me who decided in your stead, and kept you at my side. I am responsible. So... now that you can, I want you to choose freely.”

Pensive, Wolf crossed his legs and rubbed his chin. After a few moments of thinking, he outstretched his prosthetic arm with a kind smile.

“Come closer, Kuro. I will be the one to tell you a story, for a change.”

Kuro sat at his side, letting the smooth limb encircle his shoulders. It was one of their habits to tell ancient stories and myths in the evenings, with him and Mizuho taking turns as the narrators. Wolf, who had known nothing but a lifetime of shinobi education before that, always listened eagerly – but he had never offered to tell a tale of his own.

Wolf's fingers of bone brushed his left shoulder, in an attempt to soothe him.

“Long ago, one night, my father pierced me with his blade when I was not looking. My defenses were low, and my focus elsewhere. All I had in mind was to save you. When it happened, I thought I had failed; I would bleed out on the ground, and the temple would become my pyre. When I returned to consciousness, I had forgotten most of it – but I was bound, one day, to remember how I had smelt the sakura for the first time.”

Kuro blinked and wiped his eyes, too emotional to react or interrupt. He let Wolf's voice flow over his ears, like a lullaby.

“A few years later, you lit an incense burner with a smell I did not recognize. Even though it was so familiar, just at the back of my consciousness, I could not put my finger on why I knew it from before. That smell led me to a divine realm where every tree in bloom offered its petals to the wind, in motions that are not of our world. It was in that place, with precious tears in my hand, that my memory awoke. They had the smell of your sakura, the smell which brought me back to life each time. When I had believed to be saving you, you had saved me instead.”

“Wolf...”

“There is more,” Wolf said, gently. “Not long after, I saw the same heavenly light spiral around your body, and the sakura smell trapped me. I did my duty and I grieved. How I grieved. I travelled to the west with your sister, and finally, after the eternity of a whole long year, I saw you take your form again in front of my eyes. It was the last time the sakura touched my nostrils. I took its presence as an oath – that I, of my own volition, would always follow everywhere you went. But it was the smell to remind me, in the same moment, that my decision had been set in stone a long time before then.”

It was then that, his face hidden, Kuro broke down into sobs. For a little while, nothing else was spoken – nothing existed but the gentleness of the dying sunset, and the weight of all the years they had shared.

“You taught me how to choose, Kuro,” Wolf whispered, holding him closer. “I chose to be at your side as long as you would need it. That, and nothing else of importance, is what the sakura reminds me of – your kindness, and how you set me free. You had no obligation towards me, either, and yet you let me stay. You did not forget me, you did not use me. You gave me a place to live, and two people to care for. Look now, to the sakura blossoms we can watch today, and tell me what you think of all this.”

Kuro raised his gaze to the tree, its few blossoms set on fire by the orange of sundown. He listened to the sleepy harmonies of bird song, and with them, with their murmur, he let out a long, freeing sigh.

“I understand what you meant, Wolf,” he said, still trembling a little. “My guilt is in the past, and so are your obligations. We are here today, where sakura is nothing but sakura, and we are nothing but human.”

Under the deep blue of the sky, Wolf took his now grown boy in his arms, and cradled him just as he had done, so freely, every time since their return. They welcomed the season with their embrace, knowing they would remain year after year – to watch the snowfall of the sakura petals, and go back to a warm home whenever the cold touched their hearts again.

From there, a delicious smell came to meet their nostrils, and two wide arms encircled them both. They all smiled.

Mizuho's robes, spread around them like a half-moon, made the spring night complete.

**Author's Note:**

> A fanfiction with ALL THE FEELINGS because they deserve those and the tea house. 
> 
> Sort of a sequel to my fic Prayer Necklace, in the sense that the ending events go the same way, this story is my welcome to the spring in these harsh times and a way to try and make everyone feel better. The story is named after a Kokia song - Hanautage, or Hana no en - which is exactly about all these things.
> 
> I wanted for a long time to try and write a story about the sakura and its symbolism in the Heritage, and that happened to fuse with another story idea. So here we go - take it for what it is!
> 
> Mizuho is what my partner named the Divine Child of Rejuvenation, so credit to her for the lovely name.


End file.
